


The Trouble

by lilacchocobo



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: FFXV, Fluff, Gladio - Freeform, Ignis - Freeform, M/M, One Shot, Promptis - Freeform, Yaoi, noctis - Freeform, prompto - Freeform, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 15:32:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10128956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilacchocobo/pseuds/lilacchocobo
Summary: We all need some soft Promptis





	

He had first perceived the look of Noctis' hands. Slender, skin wrapping around the bones just snug enough that the ends of his knuckles slightly showed indication of bone. Digits with soft curves. Prompto always told him he had fingers of a pianist. They could hold a blade with vigor, then emit warmth in its palms to whoever needed it. Prompto's gaze lulled over his hands once more to stare at the calluses across the creases. The hardened skin layed upon its fleshy cushions. Attempts at picking the blemishes had been made, Prompto saw. That one feeble glove wasn't doing much. If it was up to him, Noctis would be in snow-mittens by now.

 

The close proximity of the two boys made Noctis' aches and pains even more apparent. The group was bunking in the Regalia once more tonight. The engine overheating had forced Ignis to drive 20 miles-per-hour at most to return to Cape Caem. The highway walls were a hundred feet too high to jump and find decent camp. The second nightfall in the vehicle proved trying. The cramped smell of seat leather and Ignis' woodsy cologne made the atmosphere. Parked in HOV lane, the two younger men felt the others body heat in the back seats. Head lop-sided on the head cushion, the doe-eyed blonde had an awfully clear view of the prince's painful neck. Painted with the cloudy yellow rays of the cars' ceiling bulb. The smooth muscles tensed at the sounds of anything alarming. So, Prompto waited until Gladio had deemed it bedtime and transformed the dome light into darkness. Every other sense was heightened. The light puffs of wind that rolled over the cars curvature almost masked the sound of the younger boy's shuttering. The fact that the duo upfront were sound sleepers didn't help his situation. Yet, a neurotic hand creaked it's way to Noctis' neck until both their silhouettes grazed the others. Of course one of those electric shocks dove into their skin, hampering on his embarrassment. Geez, Have the Gods put a hex on Prompto? Nevertheless, the arm found its finish line in the cushion-like crook of neck.

Noctis had seen the internal struggle go on. His peripheral vision begged that waxen hand to deliver him warmth. The gunman had given the luxury of indulging him in his time of need every once in a while. The effort it would take to turn towards Prompto was meaningless so a flutter of his eyes was satisfactory enough. It was when those fingers delved into his shoulder with downy strokes that made his head lull back. The packed air now seemed comforting and a tear did almost appear for the gratitude of Prompto.

His fingers made the effort to tip-toe along the limp mans' opposite shoulder. The two had a balloons' width dividing them so Prompto's pallid arm creaked with the intention of reaching over without interrupting the princes' personal space.

"It's alright." Noctis murmured in a thick croak only after letting go of a wobbling breath. At the same time, sinking in the leather confides and drowning himself into his intimate friends' side. The labor it took for Noctis to situate himself made it apparent to Prompto: he was suffering. How long has his joints given him trouble? He could roughly deny Ignis' aid because that's how it's always been with those two. The butler persona that respects royalty's rejectings. He didn't even have to think about why he had to do something now. Prompto's whole arm was now nursing those muscles. Exhales of butterflies and satisfaction set the ambiance. The head of the tawny-haired boy even dared to unite with his patients'. He was always a people pleaser. The certainty of what needed to be done was strong. Now, his aim has gone past his reasoning and to his heart.

Two weeks later.

By now the "stranded fiasco was gladly taken care of. The gang rewarded their own bravery (really Ignis') by taking stop and a "vacation" in Lestallum. Their break was admittedly just breathing space for their confined senses. Gladiolus, the average stone cold aura, had fallen to the perils of car sickness. The Regalia and her gruesome matinence would take time, aswell. So, Prompto took great care of his free time to compile his good deed. His regular shopping habits made it child's play as an excuse to venture off in the more self-indulging shops of the city. A phone call or three was made to Iris as to what and where the hell was a scented wax burner. He had asked permission from Jared; the motel keeper, to keep a room on hold that met his requirements. Involving more than one electrical outlet, a King sized bed or larger, maybe even a "Do Not Disturb!" sign. The room rental plus the accessories cost a pretty gil. Yet, Prompto knew he would receive more atonement from Noctis' relief than from another exorbitant lense case.

With the evasion that there was a tourist spot dig for Vyv which needed to be discussed, Prom left the group in the raw, feverish sunfall. Room-key between his teeth with the soothing objects in their bags around robust biceps, his constructing time was limited. He had thought the room was one power plug-in short and strung out profanites like a clothespin line until it was located behind the bed frame. 

After the ceiling lights were dimmed to but a whisper, the now decorated room called for a gasp. Three salt crystals blushed flourenscence and set the pallete. Double that were paper machè lanterns Prompto dotted throughout the rooms' corners that softened the energy. A wax burner sketched vanilla-lavender scents that cherished the air. The gratified boy had purchased and layed out four organic rubbing lotions. Noctis bore sensitive skin and was known for producing hives towards most products. Whichever one seems the right one had to be it, Prompto thought anxiously.

The prince's voice rang with a "Ignis, I smell dessert...Cupcakes?" Shit. The last step was to await his older friend in the lobby once he returned. Noctis should never be early to his surprises, he thought. Nevertheless, he had walked in to what was assumed to be the shared bedroom to a tender daydream blotted by the artless stance Prompto acquired. As he counted upon his client's returned embarrassment, Noctis's mouth fell upon a grin. Past the awkwardness that lessened everytime Prompto treated him, he relished in the idea of coddled by the freckled boy. A face that carried a flush akin to the crystals, Noct's raised brows and a nod towards the bed asked the gunman for permission to lay atop it.

"Y-yes, yeah go ahead."

He focused on the effort it took the pained man to ride up the back of his shirt as a repellent away from his bashfullness. Prompto had absentely drained the closest tubing of lotion onto his digits and waltz them to the small of the back. How thermal Noctis' skin already felt combined with those quiet hues that blanketed his body in waves, it was almost calming for Prom himself. To his shoulder blades now, with fingers that triple-checked they weren't going too rough. The landscape that is the sighing boys' back ripples above dense muscles like a wavering flag. He feels like a swaddled child with Prompto pampering to his sores gingerly. 

This last part. Those lone calluses. The waxen-haired man portioned out the lotion by fastening their palms together. Hands that hold the Royal Arms. Fingers that grip the Ring of the Lucii. Now crumbling like pasteries beneath the nursing of his intimate friend. 

Prompto was knees bent beside the bed now. Before migrating his nurture towards Noctis' silken neck, he snatched up the heavily brutalized palm. It would need more work then anticipated. It was supposed they would need Ignis' special aid after all. He turned the puffy lacerations for the prince to see. A slumberous chuckle was stifled from the pillow taking shelter in the lax boy's face. Prompto proceeded with his thumb weaving through the life lines.

"What was that laugh for, huh?" He made sure to keep the tone mellow alligned with his movements.

"That explains the trouble that I'm always in."


End file.
